waterfall
by not a straight trumpet
Summary: Confessions, feelings, and good-girl skins all find themselves tumbling away on the way back from a grave.


**a/n:** somehow my bitterness over that episode shows itself more clearly in the fic than in this author's note, which is filled with bitterness over that episode. god i hate kyoani.

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The weather had warmed up significantly, Kumiko thought, still watching the waterfall tumbling down. Reina had a newfound drive in her that Kumiko had missed more than she'd known, determination glinting in her eyes like the sparks of a purple flame. She'd played that piece with all the power in the world, her very breath a symphony, and Kumiko had only sat in awe. It had even been enough, for a short while, to make her forget what she meant to say. Now, however, the two stood on the bridge with a quietness in their motions, and Kumiko hadn't known that _now-or-never_ could be an emotion, and yet here she was.

"The stuff with Taki-sensei . . . that wasn't just it, was it?" Reina gripped the railing tighter.

"Maybe," she said, eyes focused on the rippling water below.

"I won't pry if you don't want to talk about it, y'know." Kumiko leaned against the bridge, feeling it creak ever so slightly under her weight.

"You had your problems to worry about. I had mine. They overlapped at a bad time. There isn't much more to say on the matter, I think." Reina turned to face her, dark hair buffeted by the wind, and the smallest hints of a teasing smile appeared on her face. "It'd be pretty _terrible_ to consider anything else."

"Oh, are we doing that now?" Kumiko said, smirking. "Y'know what else is kinda _terrible?"_

"What?" Reina said it with an odd lightness.

"Going up a mountain to confess, only to go up the same mountain a few months later to confess your feelings about someone else." Kumiko regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

"I couldn't think of a better place to say it," Reina replied. "There wasn't any reason to it beyond that."

"It was cold," Kumiko murmured, unsure of why she remembered that, of all things. "Your hand was warm, though, Reina. It was really soft, too, even with the weather getting all windy- ah, I guess you probably felt my hands, too, then, huh? They're really chapped, I always forget to put lotion on them before I go to bed, and-"

"You're rambling." Reina didn't look her in the eye. "I've . . . gotten over Taki-sensei. You know that, right? At least to some degree." Kumiko reached to pat her on the shoulder, but Reina pushed her hand down. "At the very, very least, he loved his wife. I wonder what that's like."

"Eh?"

"That sort of unconditional feeling you have for someone, so much that you'd take a job that caused you pain for their memory's sake. It's brave. It's noble."

"Reina?"

"It's stupid." Reina looked like she was about to burst out laughing. "I mean, what kinds of idiots must we be, devoting ourselves to other people like that? Isn't it terrible, Kumiko?" Kumiko didn't have an answer. "She must've been wonderful."

"Who?"

"Taki-sensei's wife. He talked about her so . . . fondly. Lovingly. I've seen movies, Kumiko, that's the voice of someone who had a soulmate, if you believe in that sort of thing. It's something bigger than us, something cosmic." Reina clenched her fist. "I have to become special. I can't let myself fall into that same trap."

"I might be kinda _terrible_ for saying this, Reina, b-but you've already done that. We're standing here because of Taki-sensei, right?"

"That's different." Reina watched the water, still as a rock. "I've never deluded myself into thinking it was anything more than what it was. And now I have closure. It's done. Over. I can dedicate myself to the trumpet now." Kumiko wondered if people could hear the sound of disappointment. "There's a satisfying finality to it, I won't deny that. Anyway, we should head home. Someone could steal the bikes if we leave them there for too long."

"Would someone really do that?"

"They could." Reina paused for a moment. "I suppose I still haven't done it yet, have I?"

"What?" Reina turned on her heel, her expression reminding Kumiko of a regal wolf, the leader of her pack, lit by the sun.

"I haven't peeled off that good-girl skin."

"Uh, w-well, I'm still not really sure what you mean by that."

"Obviously." Reina walked ahead a few paces. "Still, I'd have thought that you would've noticed at least some of it by now. Letting me tell bold-faced lies, rooting for me - I wasn't expecting him to reciprocate, you know. I never have."

"Obviously," Kumiko echoed.

"And yet you cheered me on with my childish delusions. Why?" Kumiko shrugged.

"It seemed like the best thing to do, I guess."

"The safest thing to do, more like," Reina murmured. "The simple path, the one not riddled with traps and spikes. You're terrible, Kumiko, when you want to be."

"Y-yeah." Kumiko didn't really know how to respond.

"I want to do it before the Nationals, before the band falls into a state of celebration or mourning."

"D-do what?"

"I told you already, didn't I? You've kept that mask glued on, it's incredibly stubborn of you." Kumiko could still hear the distant rushing of the waterfall. "It's all the more reason to strip it away." Reina's face held the same sort of determination Kumiko had seen when she'd played the trumpet piece just minutes earlier, and before she knew it, the two were standing inches from each other, just slightly warmer than they had been before.

"You c-could have done it already," Kumiko murmured, gently taking hold of Reina's hand and intertwining it with her own, just as she had that night on the mountain. "I've told you already, haven't I? I've confessed to you, Reina, so why . . ."

"Do you want this?"

"What?"

"You could have Tsukamoto. You could have an easy life."

"I don't want that." Violet eyes widened, and Kumiko, without thinking, pressed her lips to Reina's, and the world spun anew.

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 **a/n:** kyoani i'm begging you...save 2016. please


End file.
